e'se. I tried ter l'arn him de arrer er his ways en make him go ter
chu'ch en pra'r-meetin'; but it wa'n't no use. I dunno who killt 'im, en
I doan wanter know, fer I 'd be mos' sho' ter fin' out dat my boy had
sta'ted de fuss. Ef I 'd 'a' had a son lack you, Brer Dan, I 'd 'a' be'n
a proud nigger; oh, yas, I would, sho's you bawn. But you ain' lookin'
ez well ez you oughter, Brer Dan. Dey's sump'n de matter wid you, en
w'at 's mo', I 'spec' you dunno w'at it is.'
"Now, dis yer kin' er talk nach'ly th'owed Dan off'n his gya'd, en fus'
thing he knowed he wuz talkin' ter dis ole cunjuh man des lack he wuz
one er his bes' frien's. He tol' 'im all 'bout not feelin' well in de
mawnin', en ax' 'im ef he could tell w'at wuz de matter wid 'im.
"'Yas,' sez de cunjuh man. 'Dey is a witch be'n ridin' you right 'long.
I kin see de marks er de bridle on yo' mouf. En I'll des bet yo' back
is raw whar she 's be'n beatin' you.'
"'Yas,' 'spon' Dan, 'so it is.' He had n' notice it befo', but now he
felt des lack de hide had be'n tuk off'n 'im.
"'En yo' thighs is des raw whar de spurrers has be'n driv' in you,' sez
de cunjuh man. 'You can't see de raw spots, but you kin feel 'em.'
"'Oh, yas,' 'lows Dan, 'dey does hu't pow'ful bad.'
"'En w'at's mo',' sez de cunjuh man, comin' up close ter Dan en
whusp'in' in his yeah, 'I knows who it is be'n ridin' you.'
"'Who is it?' ax' Dan. 'Tell me who it is.'
"'It's a' ole nigger 'oman down by Rockfish Crick. She had a pet rabbit,
en you cotch' 'im one day, en she's been squarin' up wid you eber sence.
But you better stop her, er e'se you'll be rid ter def in a mont' er
so.'
"'No,' sez Dan, 'she can't kill me, sho'.'
"'I dunno how dat is,' said de cunjuh man, 'but she kin make yo' life
mighty mis'able. Ef I wuz in yo' place, I 'd stop her right off.'
"'But how is I gwine ter stop her?' ax' Dan. 'I dunno nuffin 'bout
stoppin' witches.'
"'Look a heah, Dan,'sez de yuther; 'you is a goad young man. I lacks you
monst'us well. Fac', I feels lack some er dese days I mought buy you fum
yo' marster, ef I could eber make money ernuff at my bizness dese hard
times, en 'dop' you fer my son. I lacks you so well dat I'm gwine ter
he'p you git rid er dis yer witch fer good en all; fer des ez long ez
she libs, you is sho' ter hab trouble, en trouble, en mo' trouble.'
"'You is de bes' frien' I got, Unk' Jube,' sez Dan, 'en I'll 'member
yo' kin'ness ter my dyin' day. Tell me how I kin git rid er dis yer ole
witch w'at 's be'n ridin' me so ha'd.'
"'In de fus' place,' sez de cunjuh man, 'dis ole witch nebber comes in
her own shape, but eve'y night, at ten o'clock, she tu'ns herse'f inter
a black cat, en runs down ter yo' cabin en bridles you, en mounts you,
en dribes you out th'oo de chimbly, en rides you ober de roughes' places
she kin fin'. All you got ter do is ter set fer her in de bushes 'side
er yo' cabin, en hit her in de head wid a rock er a lighterd-knot w'en
she goes pas'.'
"'But,' sez Dan, 'how kin I see her in de da'k? En s'posen I hits at her
en misses her? Er s'posen I des woun's her, en she gits erway,--w'at she
gwine do ter me den?'
"'I is done studied 'bout all dem things,' sez de cunjuh man, 'en it
'pears ter me de bes' plan fer you ter foller is ter lemme tu'n you ter
some creetur w'at kin see in de da'k, en w'at kin run des ez fas' ez a
cat, en w'at kin bite, en bite fer ter kill; en den you won't hafter hab
no trouble atter de job is done. I dunno whuther you 'd lack dat er no,
but dat is de sho'es' way.'
"'I doan keer,' 'spon' Dan. 'I'd des ez lief be anything fer a' hour er
so, ef I kin kill dat ole witch. You kin do des w'at you er mineter.'
"'All right, den,' sez de cunjuh man, 'you come down ter my cabin at
half-past nine o'clock ter-night, en I'll fix you up.'
"Now, dis cunjuh man, w'en he had got th'oo talkin' wid Dan, kep' on
down de road 'long de side er de plantation, 'tel he met Mahaly comin'
home fum wuk des atter sundown.
"'Hoddy do, ma'm,' sezee; 'is yo' name Sis' Mahaly, w'at b'longs ter
Mars Dugal' McAdoo?'
"'Yas,' 'spon' Mahaly, 'dat's my name, en I b'longs ter Mars Dugal'.'
"'Well,' sezee, 'yo' husban' Dan wuz down by my cabin dis ebenin', en
he got bit by a spider er sump'n, en his foot is swoll' up so he can't
walk. En he ax' me fer ter fin' you en fetch you down dere ter he'p 'im
home.'
"Co'se Mahaly wanter see w'at had happen' ter Dan, en so she sta'ted
down de road wid de cunjuh man. Ez soon ez he got her inter his cabin,
he shet de do', en sprinkle' some goopher mixtry on her, en tu'nt her
ter a black cat. Den he tuk 'n put her in a bairl, en put a bo'd on de
bairl, en a rock on de bo'd, en lef her dere 'tel he got good en ready
fer ter use her.
"'Long 'bout half-pas' nine o'clock Dan come down ter de cunjuh man's
cabin. It wuz a wa'm night, en de do' wuz stan'in' open. De cunjuh man
'vited Dan ter come in, en pass' de time er day wid 'im. Ez soon ez Dan
'mence' talkin', he heared a cat miauin' en scratchin' en gwine on at a
tarrable rate.
"'Wat's all dat fuss 'bout?' ax' Dan.
"'Oh, dat ain' nuffin but my ole gray tomcat,' sez de cunjuh man. 'I has
ter shet 'im up sometimes fer ter keep 'im in nights, en co'se he doan
lack it.
"'Now,' 'lows de cunjuh man, 'lemme tell you des w'at you is got ter do.
Wen you ketches dis witch, you mus' take her right by de th'oat en bite
her right th'oo de neck. Be sho' yo' teef goes th'oo at de fus' bite, en
den you won't nebber be bothe'd no mo' by dat witch. En w'en you git
done, come back heah en I'll tu'n you ter yo'se'f ag'in, so you kin go
home en git yo' night's res'.'
"Den de cunjuh man gun Dan sump'n nice en sweet ter drink out'n a new
go'd, en in 'bout a minute Dan foun' hisse'f tu'nt ter a gray wolf; en
soon ez he felt all fo' er his noo feet on de groun', he sta'ted off
fas' ez he could fer his own cabin, so he could be sho' en be dere time
ernuff ter ketch de witch, en put a' een' ter her kyarin's-on.
"Ez soon ez Dan wuz gone good, de cunjuh man tuk de rock off'n de bo'd,
en de bo'd off'n de bairl, en out le'p' Mahaly en sta'ted fer ter go
home, des lack a cat er a 'oman er anybody e'se would w'at wuz in
trouble; en it wa'n't many minutes befo' she wuz gwine up de path ter
her own do'.
"Meanw'iles, w'en Dan had retch' de cabin, he had hid hisse'f in a bunch
er jimson weeds in de ya'd. He had n' wait' long befo' he seed a black
cat run up de path to'ds de do'. Des ez soon ez she got close ter 'im,
he le'p' out en ketch' her by de th'oat, en got a grip on her, des lack
de cunjuh man had tol' 'im ter do. En lo en behol'! no sooner had de
blood 'mence' ter flow dan de black cat tu'nt back ter Mahaly, en Dan
seed dat he had killt his own wife. En w'iles her bref wuz gwine she
call' out:
"'O Dan! O my husban'! come en he'p me! come en sabe me fum dis wolf
w'at 's killin' me!'
"Wen po' Dan sta'ted to'ds her, ez any man nach'ly would, it des made
her holler wuss en wuss; fer she did n' knowed dis yer wolf wuz her Dan.
En Dan des had ter hide in de weeds, en grit his teef en hoi' hisse'f
in, 'tel she passed out'n her mis'ry, callin' fer Dan ter de las', en
wond'rin' w'y he did n' come en he'p her. En Dan 'lowed ter hisse'f he
'd ruther 'a' be'n killt a dozen times 'n ter 'a' done w'at he had ter
Mahaly.
"Dan wuz mighty nigh 'stracted, but w'en Mahaly wuz dead en he got his
min' straighten' out a little, it did n' take 'im mo' d'n a minute er so
fer ter see th'oo all de cunjuh man's lies, en how de cunjuh man had
fooled 'im en made 'im kill Mahaly, fer ter git eben wid 'im fer
killin' er his son. He kep' gittin' madder en madder, en Mahaly had n'
much mo' d'n drawed her' las bref befo' he sta'ted back ter de cunjuh
man's cabin ha'd ez he could run.
"Wen he got dere, de do' wuz stan'in' open; a lighterd-knot wuz
flick'rin' on de h'a'th, en de ole cunjuh man wuz settin' dere noddin'
in de corner. Dan le'p' in de do' en jump' fer dis man's th'oat, en got
de same grip on 'im w'at de cunjuh man had tol' 'im 'bout half a' hour
befo'. It wuz ha'd wuk dis time, fer de ole man's neck wuz monst'us
tough en stringy, but Dan hilt on long ernuff ter be sho' his job wuz
done right. En eben den he did n' hol' on long ernuff; fer w'en he tu'nt
de cunjuh man loose en he fell ober on de flo', de cunjuh man rollt his
eyes at Dan, en sezee:--
"'I's eben wid you, Brer Dan, en you er eben wid me; you killt my son
en I killt yo' 'oman. En ez I doan want no mo' d'n w'at 's fair 'bout
dis thing, ef you'll retch up wid yo' paw en take down dat go'd hangin'
on dat peg ober de chimbly, en take a sip er dat mixtry, it'll tu'n you
back ter a nigger ag'in, en I kin die mo' sad'sfied 'n ef I lef you lack
you is.'
"Dan nebber 'lowed fer a minute dat a man would lie wid his las' bref,
en co'se he seed de sense er gittin' tu'nt back befo' de cunjuh man
died; so he dumb on a chair en retch' fer de go'd, en tuk a sip er de
mixtry. En ez soon ez he 'd done dat de cunjuh man lafft his las' laf,
en gapsed out wid 'is las' gaps:--
"'Uh huh! I reckon I's square wid you now fer killin' me, too; fer dat
goopher on you is done fix' en sot now fer good, en all de cunj'in' in
de worl' won't nebber take it off.
_'Wolf you is en wolf you stays,
All de rest er yo' bawn days_.'
"Co'se Brer Dan could n' do nuffin. He knowed it wa'n't no use, but he
dumb up on de chimbly en got down de go'ds en bottles en yuther cunjuh
fixin's, en tried 'em all on hisse'f, but dey didn' do no good. Den he
run down ter ole Aun' Peggy, but she did n' know de wolf langwidge, en
couldn't 'a' tuk off dis yuther goopher nohow, eben ef she 'd 'a'
unnerstood w'at Dan wuz sayin'. So po' Dan wuz bleedgd ter be a wolf all
de rest er his bawn days.
"Dey foun' Mahaly down by her own cabin nex' mawnin', en eve'ybody made
a great 'miration 'bout how she 'd be'n killt. De niggers 'lowed a wolf
had bit her. De w'ite folks say no, dey ain' be'n no wolves 'roun' dere
fer ten yeahs er mo'; en dey did n' know w'at ter make out'n it. En w'en
dey could n' fin' Dan nowhar, dey 'lowed he'd quo'lled wid Mahaly en
killt her, en run erway; en dey did n' know w'at ter make er dat, fer
Dan en Mahaly wuz de mos' lovin' couple on de plantation. Dey put de
dawgs on Dan's scent, en track' 'im down ter ole Unk' Jube's cabin, en
foun' de ole man dead, en dey did n' know w'at ter make er dat; en den
Dan's scent gun out, en dey didn' know w'at ter make er dat. Mars Dugal'
tuk on a heap 'bout losin' two er his bes' han's in one day, en ole
missis 'lowed it wuz a jedgment on 'im fer sump'n he 'd done. But dat
fall de craps wuz monst'us big, so Mars Dugal' say de Lawd had temper'
de win' ter de sho'n ram, en make up ter 'im fer w'at he had los'.
"Dey buried Mahaly down in dat piece er low groun' you er talkin' 'bout
cl'arin' up. Ez fer po' Dan, he did n' hab nowhar e'se ter go, so he des
stayed 'roun' Mahaly's grabe, w'en he wa'n't out in de yuther woods
gittin' sump'n ter eat. En sometimes, w'en night would come, de niggers
useter heah him howlin' en howlin' down dere, des fittin' ter break his
hea't. En den some mo' un 'em said dey seed Mahaly's ha'nt dere
'bun'ance er times, colloguin' wid dis gray wolf. En eben now, fifty
yeahs sence, long atter ole Dan has died en dried up in de woods, his
ha'nt en Mahaly's hangs 'roun' dat piece er low groun', en eve'body w'at
goes 'bout dere has some bad luck er 'nuther; fer ha'nts doan lack ter
be 'sturb' on dey own stompin'-groun'."
The air had darkened while the old man related this harrowing tale. The
rising wind whistled around the eaves, slammed the loose
window-shutters, and, still increasing, drove the rain in fiercer gusts
into the piazza. As Julius finished his story and we rose to seek
shelter within doors, the blast caught the angle of some chimney or
gable in the rear of the house, and bore to our ears a long, wailing
note, an epitome, as it were, of remorse and hopelessness.
"Dat 's des lack po' ole Dan useter howl," observed Julius, as he
reached for his umbrella, "en w'at I be'n tellin' you is de reason I
doan lack ter see dat neck er woods cl'ared up. Co'se it b'longs ter
you, en a man kin do ez he choose' wid 'is own. But ef you gits
rheumatiz er fever en agur, er ef you er snake-bit er p'isen' wid some
yarb er 'nuther, er ef a tree falls on you, er a ha'nt runs you en makes
you git 'stracted in yo' min', lack some folks I knows w'at went foolin'
'roun' dat piece er lan', you can't say I neber wa'ned you, suh, en tol'
you w'at you mought look fer en be sho' ter fin'."
When I cleared up the land in question, which was not until the
following year, I recalled the story Julius had told us, and looked in
vain for a sunken grave or perhaps a few weather-bleached bones of some
denizen of the forest. I cannot say, of course, that some one had not
been buried there; but if so, the hand of time had long since removed
any evidence of the fact. If some lone wolf, the last of his pack, had
once made his den there, his bones had long since crumbled into dust and
gone to fertilize the rank vegetation that formed the undergrowth of
this wild spot. I did find, however, a bee-tree in the woods, with an
ample cavity in its trunk, and an opening through which convenient
access could be had to the stores of honey within. I have reason to
believe that ever since I had bought the place, and for many years
before, Julius had been getting honey from this tree. The gray wolf's
haunt had doubtless proved useful in keeping off too inquisitive people,
who might have interfered with his monopoly.
HOT-FOOT HANNIBAL
"I hate you and despise you! I wish never to see you or speak to you
again!"
"Very well; I will take care that henceforth you have no opportunity to
do either."
These words--the first in the passionately vibrant tones of my
sister-in-law, and the latter in the deeper and more restrained accents
of an angry man--startled me from my nap. I had been dozing in my
hammock on the front piazza, behind the honeysuckle vine. I had been
faintly aware of a buzz of conversation in the parlor, but had not at
all awakened to its import until these sentences fell, or, I might
rather say, were hurled upon my ear. I presume the young people had
either not seen me lying there,--the Venetian blinds opening from the
parlor windows upon the piazza were partly closed on account of the
heat,--or else in their excitement they had forgotten my proximity.
I felt somewhat concerned. The young man, I had remarked, was proud,
firm, jealous of the point of honor, and, from my observation of him,
quite likely to resent to the bitter end what he deemed a slight or an
injustice. The girl, I knew, was quite as high-spirited as young
Murchison. I feared she was not so just, and hoped she would prove more
yielding. I knew that her affections were strong and enduring, but that
her temperament was capricious, and her sunniest moods easily overcast
by some small cloud of jealousy or pique. I had never imagined, however,
that she was capable of such intensity as was revealed by these few
words of hers. As I say, I felt concerned. I had learned to like
Malcolm Murchison, and had heartily consented to his marriage with my
ward; for it was in that capacity that I had stood for a year or two to
my wife's younger sister, Mabel. The match thus rudely broken off had
promised to be another link binding me to the kindly Southern people
among whom I had not long before taken up my residence.
Young Murchison came out of the door, cleared the piazza in two strides
without seeming aware of my presence, and went off down the lane at a
furious pace. A few moments later Mabel began playing the piano loudly,
with a touch that indicated anger and pride and independence and a dash
of exultation, as though she were really glad that she had driven away
forever the young man whom the day before she had loved with all the
ardor of a first passion.
I hoped that time might heal the breach and bring the two young people
together again. I told my wife what I had overheard. In return she gave
me Mabel's version of the affair.
"I do not see how it can ever be settled," my wife said. "It is
something more than a mere lovers' quarrel. It began, it is true,
because she found fault with him for going to church with that hateful
Branson girl. But before it ended there were things said that no woman
of any spirit could stand. I am afraid it is all over between them."
I was sorry to hear this. In spite of the very firm attitude taken by my
wife and her sister, I still hoped that the quarrel would be made up
within a day or two. Nevertheless, when a week had passed with no word
from young Murchison, and with no sign of relenting on Mabel's part, I
began to think myself mistaken.
One pleasant afternoon, about ten days after the rupture, old Julius
drove the rockaway up to the piazza, and my wife, Mabel, and I took our
seats for a drive to a neighbor's vineyard, over on the Lumberton
plank-road.
"Which way shall we go," I asked,--"the short road or the long one?"
"I guess we had better take the short road," answered my wife. "We will
get there sooner."
"It's a mighty fine dribe roun' by de big road, Mis' Annie," observed
Julius, "en it doan take much longer to git dere."
"No," said my wife, "I think we will go by the short road. There is a
bay-tree in blossom near the mineral spring, and I wish to get some of
the flowers."
"I 'spec's you 'd fin' some bay-trees 'long de big road, ma'm,"
suggested Julius.
"But I know about the flowers on the short road, and they are the ones
I want."
We drove down the lane to the highway, and soon struck into the short
road leading past the mineral spring. Our route lay partly through a
swamp, and on each side the dark, umbrageous foliage, unbroken by any
clearing, lent to the road solemnity, and to the air a refreshing
coolness. About half a mile from the house, and about half-way to the
mineral spring, we stopped at the tree of which my wife had spoken, and
reaching up to the low-hanging boughs, I gathered a dozen of the
fragrant white flowers. When I resumed my seat in the rockaway, Julius
started the mare. She went on for a few rods, until we had reached the
edge of a branch crossing the road, when she stopped short.
"Why did you stop, Julius?" I asked.
"I did n', suh," he replied. "'T wuz de mare stop'. G' 'long dere,
Lucy! Wat you mean by dis foolis'ness?"
Julius jerked the reins and applied the whip lightly, but the mare did
not stir.
"Perhaps you had better get down and lead her," I suggested. "If you get
her started, you can cross on the log and keep your feet dry."
Julius alighted, took hold of the bridle, and vainly essayed to make the
mare move. She planted her feet with even more evident obstinacy.
"I don't know what to make of this," I said. "I have never known her to
balk before. Have you, Julius?"
"No, suh," replied the old man, "I neber has. It's a cu'ous thing ter
me, suh."
"What's the best way to make her go?"
"I 'spec's, suh, dat ef I'd tu'n her 'roun', she'd go de udder way."
"But we want her to go this way."
"Well, suh, I 'low ef we des set heah fo' er fibe minutes, she'll
sta't up by herse'f."
"All right," I rejoined; "it is cooler here than any place I have struck
today. We'll let her stand for a while, and see what she does."
We had sat in silence for a few minutes, when Julius suddenly
ejaculated, "Uh huh! I knows w'y dis mare doan go. It des flash' 'cross
my recommemb'ance."
"Why is it, Julius?" I inquired.
"'Ca'se she sees Chloe."
"Where is Chloe?" I demanded.
"Chloe's done be'n dead dese fo'ty years er mo'," the old man returned.
"Her ha'nt is settin' ober yander on de udder side er de branch, unner
dat wilier-tree, dis blessed minute."
"Why, Julius!" said my wife, "do you see the haunt?"
"No'm," he answered, shaking his head, "I doan see 'er, but de mare
sees 'er."
"How do you know?" I inquired.
"Well, suh, dis yer is a gray hoss, en dis yer is a Friday; en a gray
hoss kin alluz see a ha'nt w'at walks on Friday."
"Who was Chloe?" said Mabel.
"And why does Chloe's haunt walk?" asked my wife.
"It's all in de tale, ma'm," Julius replied, with a deep sigh. "It's all
in de tale."
"Tell us the tale," I said. "Perhaps, by the time you get through, the
haunt will go away and the mare will cross."
I was willing to humor the old man's fancy. He had not told us a story
for some time; and the dark and solemn swamp around us; the
amber-colored stream flowing silently and sluggishly at our feet, like
the waters of Lethe; the heavy, aromatic scent of the bays, faintly
suggestive of funeral wreaths, all made the place an ideal one for a
ghost story.
"Chloe," Julius began in a subdued tone, "use' ter b'long ter ole Mars'
Dugal' McAdoo,--my ole marster. She wuz a lackly gal en a smart gal, en
ole mis' tuk her up ter de big house, en l'arnt her ter wait on de w'ite
folks, 'tel bimeby she come ter be mis's own maid, en 'peared ter 'low
she run de house herse'f, ter heah her talk erbout it. I wuz a young boy
den, en use' ter wuk 'bout de stables, so I knowed eve'ythin' dat wuz
gwine on 'roun' de plantation.
"Well, one time Mars' Dugal' wanted a house boy, en sont down ter de
qua'ters fer ter hab Jeff en Hannibal come up ter de big house nex'
mawnin'. Ole marster en ole mis' look' de two boys ober, en 'sco'sed wid
deyse'ves fer a little w'ile, en den Mars' Dugal' sez, sezee:--
"'We lacks Hannibal de bes', en we gwine ter keep him. Heah, Hannibal,
you'll wuk at de house fum now on. En ef you er a good nigger en min's
yo' bizness, I'll gib you Chloe fer a wife nex' spring. You other
nigger, you Jeff, you kin go back ter de qua'ters. We ain' gwine ter
need you.'
"Now Chloe had be'n stan'in' dere behin' ole mis' dyoin' all er dis yer
talk, en Chloe made up her min' fum de ve'y fus' minute she sot eyes on
dem two dat she did n' lack dat nigger Hannibal, en wa'n't neber gwine
keer fer 'im, en she wuz des ez sho' dat she lack' Jeff, en wuz gwine
ter set sto' by 'im, whuther Mars' Dugal' tuk 'im in de big house er no;
en so co'se Chloe wuz monst'us sorry w'en ole Mars' Dugal' tuk Hannibal
en sont Jeff back. So she slip' roun' de house en waylaid Jeff on de way
back ter de qua'ters, en tol' 'im not ter be down-hea'ted, fer she wuz
gwine ter see ef she could n' fin' some way er 'nuther ter git rid er
dat nigger Hannibal, en git Jeff up ter de house in his place.
"De noo house boy kotch' on monst'us fas', en it wa'n't no time ha'dly
befo' Mars' Dugal' en ole mis' bofe 'mence' ter 'low Hannibal wuz de
bes' house boy dey eber had. He wuz peart en soopl', quick ez lightnin',
en sha'p ez a razor. But Chloe did n' lack his ways. He wuz so sho' he
wuz gwine ter git 'er in de spring, dat he did n' 'pear ter 'low he had
ter do any co'tin', en w'en he 'd run 'cross Chloe 'bout de house, he 'd
swell roun' 'er in a biggity way en say:--
"'Come heah en kiss me, honey. You gwine ter be mine in de spring. You
doan 'pear ter be ez fon' er me ez you oughter be.'
"Chloe did n' keer nuffin fer Hannibal, en had n' keered nuffin fer 'im,
en she sot des ez much sto' by Jeff ez she did de day she fus' laid eyes
on 'im. En de mo' fermilyus dis yer Hannibal got, de mo' Chloe let her
min' run on Jeff, en one ebenin' she went down ter de qua'ters en
watch', 'tel she got a chance fer ter talk wid 'im by hisse'f. En she
tol' Jeff fer ter go down en see ole Aun' Peggy, de cunjuh 'oman down by
de Wim'l'ton Road, en ax her ter gib 'im sump'n ter he'p git Hannibal
out'n de big house, so de w'ite folks u'd sen' fer Jeff ag'in. En bein'
ez Jeff did n' hab nuffin ter gib Aun' Peggy, Chloe gun 'im a silber
dollah en a silk han'kercher fer ter pay her wid, fer Aun' Peggy neber
lack ter wuk fer nobody fer nuffin.
"So Jeff slip' off down ter Aun' Peggy's one night, en gun 'er de
present he brung, en tol' 'er all 'bout 'im en Chloe en Hannibal, en ax'
'er ter he'p 'im out. Aun' Peggy tol' 'im she 'd wuk 'er roots, en fer
'im ter come back de nex' night, en she 'd tell 'im w'at she c'd do fer
'im.
"So de nex' night Jeff went back, en Aun' Peggy gun 'im a baby doll, wid
a body made out'n a piece er co'n-stalk, en wid splinters fer a'ms en
laigs, en a head made out'n elderberry peth, en two little red peppers
fer feet.
"'Dis yer baby doll,' sez she, 'is Hannibal. Dis yer peth head is
Hannibal's head, en dese yer pepper feet is Hannibal's feet. You take
dis en hide it unner de house, on de sill unner de do', whar Hannibal
'll hafter walk ober it eve'y day. En ez long ez Hannibal comes anywhar
nigh dis baby doll, he'll be des lack it is,--light-headed en
hot-footed; en ef dem two things doan git 'im inter trouble mighty soon,
den I'm no cunjuh 'oman. But w'en you git Hannibal out'n de house, en
git all th'oo wid dis baby doll, you mus' fetch it back ter me, fer it's
monst'us powerful goopher, en is liable ter make mo' trouble ef you
leabe it layin' roun'.'
"Well, Jeff tuk de baby doll, en slip' up ter de big house, en whistle'
ter Chloe, en w'en she come out he tol' 'er w'at ole Aun' Peggy had
said. En Chloe showed 'im how ter git unner de house, en w'en he had put
de cunjuh doll on de sill, he went 'long back ter de qua'ters--en des
waited.
"Nex' day, sho' 'nuff, de goopher 'mence' ter wuk. Hannibal sta'ted in
de house soon in de mawnin' wid a armful er wood ter make a fire, en he
had n' mo' d'n got 'cross de do'-sill befo' his feet begun ter bu'n so
dat he drap' de armful er wood on de flo' en woke ole mis' up a' hour
sooner 'n yushal, en co'se ole mis' did n' lack dat, en spoke sha'p
erbout it.